Misconception
by RazzDazz
Summary: Takashi Morinozuka had two big dreams. One was successfully accomplished. But it was the other dream which made him even more of a star than being a kendo champion or his fanciful time as one of Ouran’s legendary hosts.


Misconception

Takashi Morinozuka had never had the need to speak out his desires. There was always his chibi cousin, Mitsukuni Haninozuka being his spokesperson. His cousin understood him, his way of life and in general his ways. He wasn't a shy person but reserved and he wasn't fond of speaking. He'd rather paint, draw, knit, sew, read, write, or listen than talk. Although, speaking was an essential way of communicating to others and easier, it could also lead to many conflicting complications. He looked tough and formidable but he had a sensitive soul. He hated to be the cause of complexities to others, and to himself.

So he avoided them by not speaking. When he did, it was always the infamous one word, "Ah," to the numerous questions from anyone. It was frustrating for those who had taken the extra mile to talk to him and for that reason he was always mindful of words spoken so as not to betray his friends, fans and foes alike. Most people might think that it was cowardice on his part or just being plain snobbish but for him to hurt others with words was like thrusting a sword into his heart. It was difficult to atone even if the wrongdoer/s said a thousand apologies.

So, that particular infamous one word held the weight of his thoughts and emotions. But he knew it wasn't enough, thus, he constructed a way of communicating his thoughts to others through facial and body gestures at an early age that were legendary and sought after by even the deadliest of allies. He found that actions spoke louder than words. For example, Kanto's yakuza sanction, the Kasanoda-gumi heir, Ritsu was like a hellhound in his pursuit to be his apprentice by being a paid customer at their host club. His facial expressions or his body language neither held cool arrogance nor severe grimness.

The expression he exuded was gentle yet firm. Nothing too fancy or elaborate in his demeanor because he was a simple man. People, male and female, young and old liked him because of it. They were also attracted to know everything about him but could not get anything because of his silent nature. Silence was his shield. Unlike words, which could be manipulated and revealed false representation of a person, there were no pretending in his every facial expression, and body language/movement. He was a man's man. He wasn't a proud person. He was a person of firm conviction.

He also believed that honesty wasn't the best policy in the real world. Honesty was just a utopian gesture invented by the world's most hypocrite people, the politicians. They'd never honour their promises as they used and flashed their 'honesty' badges proclaiming that they were for the people. They'd wagered their honesty as a bargaining chip so the risk incurred would not blow their chances of pocketing the money earned or rather contributed by taxpayers' sweat, blood and tears. Enough of that, nothing was perfect. This world was riddled with its imperfections.

It was a perfect notation that it was the law of nature. He was irritated that people would blame God or start pointing fingers at each other neither wanting to admit their mistakes and be responsible for his or her actions. And so, for him, silence was a shield not salvation. Although, silence in itself was a weapon, it could also cause problems. It would broach a variety of subjective impressions. Mostly, in his case it would be suspicious misconception especially if you happened to have a nosy next door neighbour. The said neighbour whose name was Miho Oda was a skinny woman in her late thirties.

She lived with her equally nosy mother. These two were the worst gossip mongers ever lived on planet Earth. The slightest movement or sound made by him and the whole neighbourhood would know about it tomorrow. They were better than the regular tabloid reporters. These reporters consulted them for whatever exciting, and intriguing information about him. They were paid handsomely too for scandalous tidbits. For example, he was suspected as a mob boss and Kasa-kun as his enforcer! Kasa-kun had visited him dead at night three months ago with intention and a small package.

God knew what was in the small package but he knew it was a gift for Haruhi Fujioka. Kasa-kun wanted him to give it to her on his behalf. It wouldn't be good for her bright future as one of the nation's best lawyers to receive said gift from him personally, even though it was out of his appreciation of her help in his Ouran past. It would look mighty suspicious and risky since he was a mob boss after all. He was blunt, rough and crude on the outside yet he possessed a gentle heart. It was one thing that not alone he had advised but Kasa's mentor as well from what he had heard.

It wasn't a bad thing to have a gentle heart but one must not rely heavily on it if one had to survive in the real world. That particular sentiment applied to him as well. There was another reason why Kasa-kun came by. He had wanted him to be his sparring partner in kendo. He had accepted because Kasa-kun was another talented kendoist. Like him, Kasa-kun participated as a private individual and always came in third or fourth position in the kendo tournaments using his mother's maiden name. But Oda-san assumed differently through her spying glass that he was a mob boss.

Worst still was the insinuation that inside the small package had someone's bloodied severely cut pinky! It was all over town the next day! At first he didn't know why the town's folks were wary of him. The police came with a warrant and he was asked to follow them to the police station but was saved by Haru-chan, who had connections with the media and the Legal and Justice Department. The package was opened and the content was revealed to be a diamond studded rose jade in platinum broach NOT a severely bloodied severed pinky!

Oh yes, there were many stupid complexities obstructing his work and complicating his life. There was a time when he was locked up in jail, questioned incessantly and was put on surveillance for being suspected as a drug pusher, arms dealer, flesh trader, industrial spy, terrorist, etc. The cause and source of all his troubles was Oda-san's wild impression of him being silent. Couldn't he enjoy being himself? For some strange and unfathomable reason people like Oda found silent yet famous sports star like him fascinating.

Oda was a typical spectacular troublemaker and cause of big headache that wouldn't go away. Luckily, Haru-chan was always to his rescue vouching his innocence. If the odds were against him, it would just complicate and make matters worse like retiring early as a kendo professional. He needed no problems and he hadn't the time, effort or energy to deal with stupid complexities such as this one. Lodging a police report would prove futile. Those bureaucrats wouldn't believe his story unless it was too late to salvage an injustice done.

The crazy woman had a legion of twisted followers. All having different expectations of him but they have a common goal to make him invincible and immortal. It was scary. It was understandable if he was a musician playing death metal but he was just an ordinary guy. Thanks to his 'mad' neighbour his circle of fans had gotten wider and weirder. Putting that madness aside, he had two big dreams to fulfill. One of his dreams was successfully accomplished. He became a world class kendo champion. It was not because he was a kendo prodigy.

Or that he came from a long line of kendo masters with age old unseen techniques and wisdom handed down from father to son and from generation to generation but more because he loved the sport. More than that kendo calmed his nerves since he spoke less so his body was a tool used to communicating to whoever his opponents were. Whoever was his opponent would always be envious of him but respected his indomitable will, intimidating strength and intriguing strategy. His performance never faltered but improved year by year since the time of his debut four years ago.

He was already a ninth 'dan' kendoist in high school and attended many competitions not for the school's kendo club but as a private entry individual. After graduating Ouran, he had gotten serious about becoming a professional. Due to his pristine credentials of his winnings as a private entry individual, and his family name and background he was absorbed into the prestigious kendo professional league without hesitation. His second big dream was one which he was working very hard to achieve it. Yet his father had little or no tolerance for.

It was that dream which had made him move out of the main house to live on his own. It was that dream which made him even more of a star than being a kendo champion or his fanciful time as one of Ouran's legendary hosts. His father did not understand his deep interest in this other dream. His father had often chastised his mother for dressing him up as a girl when he was three to five years old. His father blamed his mother for awakening his feminine side. His father hated the fact that he was a homely person with an inclination towards feminine things like knitting, sewing, cooking.

What his father failed to understand was that the other dream had nothing to do with knitting, sewing, cooking because they were his hobbies. Hobbies which had made him richer because he'd traded his stuff on the net via eBay. His customers were mostly women who loved his designs for table tops, chair backs, sweaters, quilts and the like. He only made original, one of a kind items that were patented. His creations were highly bid and sought after.

His eyes narrowed, as he felt eyes on his back as he slowly climbed the stairs to a modest three bedroom apartment. People weren't interested in kendo but the private life of the man behind the kendo protective mask. He had a shock when someone hugged him from behind and kissed his cheek. He turned to find Tamaki Suou grinning at him. He didn't push Tamaki away. It was a normal thing for them or for that matter the rest of the gang. Even though, they now led different lives, their close friendship ties remained intact. Tamaki was as liberal as always in his attitude.

He might behave like an airhead but he was a brilliant and successful entrepreneur. "Mori-senpai," Tamaki lifted up a red coloured box, contents unknown, "I hope you're up for _it_." But Takashi knew the contents inside the box were for his work.

"Tsk-tsk," Another familiar person popped up, it was Hikaru Hiitachin, "You're not thinking of leaving us out of _it_, are you, Mori-senpai?" Smiling with seductive charm at his brother, Kaoru who had one hand on his twin's shoulder had placed a forefinger on Mori's lips. The devilish handsome twins were successful fashion magnets of a mega-billion enterprise founded by their mother.

"Leave _it_ to us." Koaru winked playfully. "You'll be satisfied at the end."

"Where's Haru-chan?" He enquired looking around for the sixth familiar person.

"Haru-chan will be here soon as she finishes her report on a big case she'd just won." Baby faced Haninozuka had grown a bit even though he was the shortest of the gang. He was an award winning chef and a food critic. He sighed, "Haru-chan loves _it_ so much especially when Takashi puts extra effort in _it_." Mitsukuni was still charming and held that cupid aura about him. He was sucking and licking a lollipop.

Kyouya Ootori leant slightly against the railing, "You know there's merit in enjoying _it_ with or without Haru-kun." He was doing extremely well as an avant-garde CEO for Ootori Medical Research.

The scene looked and their conversation sounded erotic even to Takashi. Every time they emphasized 'it', he felt the hairs on his nape stand. His response was silence. He hadn't a doubt that the 'eyes' on his back would grow larger. The embracing scene was too suggestive and the owner of said eyes would only have one word in mind for them. He wished Haru-chan was here with them. It wouldn't be so awkward. Trust them to spice things up for the sake of crazy fans like Oda. He'd have to wait till tomorrow for the results of their stairway 'foreplay.' They entered into his apartment.

"You're amazing Mori-senpai," Tamaki stated in awe as he made a cursory glance of the modest apartment with little furniture and less fittings. He wasn't repulsed by the plain ambience the apartment represented. He had lived plainly with his mother in France before his regimented rise to status in Japan. He felt right at home here than in the Suou main mansion. The places with personality he noted were Takashi's working areas which were the master and second bedrooms. Takashi's bedroom was the third one. He gave Mitsukuni the red box.

"What's so amazing?! Look at how unhealthy his lifestyle is." Mitsukuni took it and went straight into the kitchen, "Takashi, you've adapted too well as a commoner," he said as he peeked into his cousin's small kitchen, "There are only ramen cups by the cartons and dried seaweeds by the packets in a big box in the larder. Nothing more besides eggs, milk and water in the fridge," He frowned at Takashi, "No vegetables, no fruits… protein and carbo isn't a well-balanced diet!" Flailing his arms about in exasperated concern, "What am I supposed to tell your mother?"

"Seaweed's considered as veggie. It's good for health. You should know better than anyone here." Kaoru declared daftly at Mitsukuni who was pouting slightly.

"Ah," Takashi responded, "as for my mother, she understands," He continued, "Our clan has always led ordinary lives." Yes, the Morinozukas weren't like the Haninozukas. They were lowly land barons who were not truly rich bluebloods.

In ancient times, they were the retainers for the Haninozukas who protected their precious and courageous warlord. It was through marriage that they were absorbed into the mainstream and gradually rose to recognition, status and wealth but they never forgot their roots. It wasn't easy for the Morinozukas. The reception they received by those strict rich crones were as cold, and hostile as the arctic. They fought hard and well until they were accepted. Even now, there were a few old money stiff necks regarded them as specks of dust to be wiped away from their unsullied pedestal.

"Well," Mitsukuni reluctantly walked calmly back into the kitchen, "I'll whip us up something to eat."

"Clearly, your professional life made it harder for you to have a blissful private life." Hikaru announced sympathetically, "It'd be impossible for you to have a gratifying love life."

He stared at Hikaru and blinked away. He had one but he locked the entity in his heart and had thrown the key away. So, he always viewed her quietly from afar. He wondered what she really thought of him. Looking at her approach to him whenever they met for whatever festive occasions she would regard him with the respect bestowed upon a well-liked elder brother. He didn't want to be a well-liked elder brother to her. He wanted to be more of a lover if that was ever possible.

For wasn't he struck green with envy with Kasa-kun when he requested him to deliver the small gift or red with rage whenever anyone said something frivolous about Haru-chan? Truth be known, he was relieved that she never noticed him. Then again, he wished that she did. How could she when he never gave of the impression that he was interested in her as man to a woman? Like Hikaru had blithely said, it was impossible for him to have one. But being the way he was that desire would just remain as an unfulfilled dream. It was the cold hard fact.

Tamaki smiled widely, "Love happens without you knowing it. The rest is up to you to make it right."

"You're a damned romantic," Kyouya drawled, as he smiled slightly.

"Now I know why Haru-kun's comfortable whenever she's here." Kaoru sank into one of the bean bags strewn carelessly at the corner.

Tamaki took the one opposite Kaoru. "This place looks a bit like her old apartment where she used live with her father during her days at Ouran."

Takashi blinked at his remark. He never cared about how his apartment looked like until it was mentioned to him. He stared at his apartment for the first time. He noticed how similar it was to Haruhi's old apartment. It was decorated simply with the barest household essentials.

"For a guy who's rolling in with money," Hikaru sassed as he sat onto a beanbag beside his twin, "you sure don't live like one."

"That's called being economical," Kyouya sat on the tatami mat and leant his back against the wall, "or being on low profile."

Then they heard loud voices outside his apartment. They were women's voices. What now? Why must they argue in front of his apartment? Good Lord, Takashi frowned at the door. Thankfully it wasn't a big row. Takashi who was nearer to the door acted before it really turned nasty, just as the food was being laid out. His cousin blinked in surprise at his speedy reaction as he turned the knob and yanked the door open. In front of him was a neurotic person. It was Oda holding tightly onto Haruhi's arm in what seemed like a death grip. The others were behind him, each were concerned at the present scenario.

"Oda-san," Takashi gestured them not to do anything that might actually trigger violence in Oda that could hurt Haruhi.

"There's something not right about you. I was right." Oda pulled Haruhi behind her as if to protect her. "Your friends too," She glared at them, "I won't allow this woman to be used and abused by you freaky wackos."

"Excuse me," Haruhi tried to pry her arm from Oda, "You're mistaken. They are not who you think they are."

"I know what he is," Oda threw a nasty look at Takashi. "Only four days ago I saw a ghastly occultist dressed in black from head to toe enter like a sinister specter into his apartment. I swore I heard that occultist talked about blood and magic being the source of power for immortality."

Mitsukuni looked knowingly at Takashi. "Oh, using him again for your work, huh?" Then he turned his attention to Oda, his eyes glittered in merriment. "Don't worry about it. It's normal."

"It's not normal," Oda shouted exasperatedly, "You're all twisted." Oda suddenly looked at Takashi with disappointment in her eyes. "I truly thought you were a good person. You're a ninth dan kendoist for goodness sake. This isn't the way a gentleman should behave."

Kyouya appeared next to her. "Aren't you over-reacting? Have you seen him doing anything out of way?" When he saw the hesitation in her eyes, he smiled slyly. "No. Don't assume that he was doing something bad. It is the circumstance that usually puts him in such predicament. The predicament escalated to obscene proportions done by a nosy parker like you!"

"How dare you!" Oda yelled at him, "I'm not…"

But she was cut short by Haruhi, who put a forefinger on Oda's lips. "I'm sure you're Mori-senpai's number one fan…"

Oda's mouth formed an O. "S-senpai…?"

"An otaku," Tamaki supplied with glee.

"No," Hikaru shook his head in disagreement, "A super stalker," and that earned him a glare from Haruhi that he immediately raised his eyes to the ceiling.

Haruhi grabbed Oda's hand much to the other lady's shock, as she looked at Takashi, "Can she enter into your apartment?"

Takashi glanced at her in perturb. Haruhi gave him a reassuring smile. The Naturalist, the persona she'd gotten from her Ouran days was profound in her because it was in her nature. Her smile indicated that she would handle this person the way she saw fit. He didn't have to question her anymore. That was how much he trusted her. He stepped aside and so did the others. The ladies entered into his apartment.

"Oda-san," Haruhi released her hand and gestured her to follow her into the first room. They entered and Oda-san received a shock of her life when she came out of the room.

Oda stared at Takashi dazedly. She continued staring at him as she walked out of the door then stopped to turn to face him with new light. "Don't worry about anything, _sensei_. I'll make sure of _it_." Her eyes glazed with happiness as she stepped out.

"What did you tell her?" Takashi finally asked her.

"I didn't tell her anything. I showed her." Haruhi replied in earnest. "I figured you needed an ally. Who would be better than Oda-san? I think you should hire her as your PRO. She's very good at diverting attention. In this line, you can't afford to be exposed. More exposure and you'd feel the pressure. As it turned out she's a huge fan of Kyotaru Hitamitsu, the up and coming mangaka and those things you did and those strange interaction with the guys was your way of gathering information for your famous work, 'The Wandering Samurai."

The End

**A/N: The 'it' here is his second goal in life to become a mangaka. I thought he was good at Art even though it was never revealed in the anime or manga. It was just what the character wanted me to do justice of his repressed wants in life. One thing is certain his interest for Haruhi would just be viewed by her as brotherly love nothing more, unless you want it to be different… Also, this story is an off-shoot from my previous fanfic 'Reflection.' The diamond studded rose jade broach was first introduced in 'Black Blood,' then made its way to 'Lost Heaven.' Have you figured who's the ghastly 'occultist' yet? You should! LOL Another thing, I'd like to add is the mangaka's name he'd chosen. It's a combination of KYOuya + TAmaki + HaRUhi + HITAchiin + MITSUkuni = KYOTARU HITAMITSU.**


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